Life under the "Team Rui: Threat Assessment Division" regime is, surprisingly, even more stressful than the previous phase of open warfare. The fragile truce between Rina, Haruka, and Aiwa holds, but it holds with the grim determination of three countries pointing nuclear missiles at each other while simultaneously trying to analyze my every move for signs of defection, betrayal, or unauthorized snacking. My apartment is no longer a home; it is Command Central, a place where strategic discussions about Ichigo's potential motives happen over breakfast and where my manga collection is constantly under threat of being "reorganized for optimal emotional flow" by Rina.
Cosplay Club meetings are less about creativity and more about "strategic synergy" (a term Haruka uses constantly, usually while subtly trying to position herself closer to me than Rina is) and "threat analysis updates" (usually involving Kenji presenting wildly inaccurate theories based on Ichigo's recent social media posts about cats). Even walking down the school hallway feels like navigating a complex diplomatic negotiation through a minefield, trying to give equal (but minimal, deeply minimal) attention to all three girls without triggering an international incident or violating the unseen clauses of Miki's mental spreadsheet.
Rina maintains her passive-aggressive "Perfect Little Sister" routine, but now it is laced with pointed questions about my "research" on Ichigo ("Find any weaknesses yet, Onii-chan? Besides his obvious poor taste in potential handlers?"). Haruka continues her "Sophisticated Alternative" campaign, offering insights into Ichigo's potential psychological profile based on his choice of cosplay characters ("His portrayal of Zero indicates a profound messiah complex coupled with latent control issues and a possible caffeine addiction," which tells me significantly more about Haruka's analytical overthinking than Ichigo). Aiwa remains a confusing mix of shy Aiwa (around me, especially after the rooftop near-miss and my subsequent memory confirmation) and LUNA-Lite (during strategic discussions about cosplay or when defending my honor), occasionally offering insightful observations about Ichigo's performance style before blushing furiously and hiding behind her notes like a startled hermit crab.
Kenji, meanwhile, has fully embraced his role as "Chief Morale Officer / Lead Investigator of Wildly Implausible Theories / Grand Commander of the Knights of the Lunar Empress (Self-Appointed)." This mostly involves him wearing terrible disguises (a trench coat and fedora borrowed from his grandfather, a pair of Groucho Marx nose-and-glasses he claims enhances his observational skills) while "subtly" trying to follow Ichigo's fan accounts online and reporting back useless, often fabricated, information ("Intel Update! Ichigo-sama enjoys strawberry shortcake and contemplating the futility of existence! This could be key! He is clearly an emo pretty boy!"). Miki just looks perpetually exhausted, managing the schedules, the budget, Kenji's sanity (barely), and probably calculating the odds of us all spontaneously combusting from sheer stress. Hana keeps us all supplied with an endless stream of stress-reducing baked goods, which are the only things holding this fragile alliance together.
I need an escape. Desperately. My brain feels like it is running Windows 95 while trying to process quantum physics and juggle three active volcanoes. I need a space where no one is analyzing my microexpressions, scheduling my companionship, offering me snacks laced with ulterior motives, or wearing a fake mustache unironically.
My sanctuary calls. The slightly grimy, gloriously anonymous, wonderfully low-tech (compared to LUNA's setup) cybercafe.
On a Thursday evening, feigning a sudden, intense need to "research obscure Heian-period agricultural techniques for the literature project follow-up report" at the library (a lie so specific and mind-numbingly boring I hope no one, not even Haruka, questions it), I make my escape. The moment I step into the cool, dim cybercafe, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of stale coffee, lukewarm instant ramen, and overworked computer fans, a profound sense of relief washes over me. Freedom. Sweet, pixelated freedom.
I find my usual secluded terminal in the back corner, pay for three precious hours (a guarded block of pure, unadulterated escapism), and log into 'Aethelgard Ascendant.' Time to disappear. I am not Rui Hinamata, Handler/Bait/Diplomatic Incident Waiting To Happen/Potential Childhood Fiancé/Brother-Complex Target. I am StarlightKnight01, Level 78 Paladin, Slayer of Ogres, Seeker of Slightly Better Pauldrons, and Master of Clicking Things Until They Explode.
I load into the game, stretching my virtual limbs, ready to lose myself in the comforting, predictable rhythm of click-grind-loot. I pull up the world map, looking for a suitably remote, monster-infested, preferably NPC-free zone where I can mindlessly slaughter digital wildlife for a few hours without any social complications. The 'Swamps of Perpetual Despair' look promising.
Suddenly, a party invite notification pops up on my screen, startling me so badly I nearly drop my virtual sword.
CrimsonBladeIzumi has invited you to join their party! Accept / Decline?
My heart does a weird little jump, a complex mix of pleasant surprise and immediate, conditioned panic. Izumi. The cool, funny gamer girl I met here a couple of weeks ago. The one normal friend I seem to have accidentally made in the midst of all this insanity. But is she really normal? Is she secretly Ichigo? Is this another elaborate trap?! My paranoia is now a permanent resident in my brain.
But… talking to her was fun. Easy. Normal. Maybe… maybe this is okay? Maybe this is the antidote to the poison of my real life? After a second of intense internal debate, I click 'Accept.' What is the worst that could happen? (Famous last words).
Her character, a fierce-looking Warrior with ridiculously cool crimson-highlighted armor (still fitting her username perfectly), appears next to mine on the screen with a flourish of virtual particles. A voice chat request follows immediately. I hesitate for only a moment, then put on my slightly sticky headset, bracing myself.
"Well, well," a familiar, husky, amused voice says directly into my ear, sending a strange shiver down my spine. "Look what the digital cat dragged in. If it is not Sir Rui, the Paladin of Perpetual Panic."
"Izumi," I reply, a small, genuine smile spreading across my face despite my lingering paranoia. "Fancy meeting you here. Again. Are you stalking me now too?"
"Coincidence? Or fate?" she asks playfully. "Let's call it strategic server synchronization. Trying to escape the horrors of reality as well?"
"You have no idea," I sigh, the weight of my actual life pressing down for a moment like a poorly rendered anvil. "My reality currently involves advanced scheduling conflicts, potential drone surveillance, intense debates over the symbolic meaning of glitter versus sequins, and a friend who thinks he is a ninja made of trash bags."
Izumi lets out a rich, throaty laugh that actually makes me chuckle too. "Okay, you win. My reality just involves trying to decipher postmodern feminist critiques of 19th-century French poetry for a class I deeply regret taking, and occasionally yelling at inanimate objects like my toaster. So, yeah. Escapism is mandatory for survival."
"Tell me about it," I agree fervently. My toaster has been looking pretty judgmental lately too.
"So," she says, her in-game character performing a jaunty wave that clips slightly through my paladin's shoulder plate. "Since fate (or perhaps my deliberate server hopping, who can say?) has brought us together again, care to join me in tackling the notoriously annoying 'Gorge of Eternal Weeping'? I desperately need help farming 'Tears of the Sorrowful Wyvern' for my new legendary axe. The drop rate is abysmal, and my sanity is fraying."
The Gorge of Eternal Weeping. A high-level dungeon infamous for its frustrating environmental hazards (invisible puddles of sadness!), its overly dramatic boss names, and its tear-jerkingly low drop rates for rare crafting materials. Going in alone is basically digital self-flagellation. Going in with a competent partner… could actually be fun. Especially a partner who seems competent, witty, and mercifully unaware of my disastrous personal life.
"Sure," I say, feeling a spark of genuine excitement ignite in my chest. "Why not? Lead the way, Crimson Blade. Let's go make a giant, sad wyvern weep even harder. For loot."
"Excellent," she replies, her voice full of cheerful bloodlust. "Prepare for glory, Starlight Knight! And try not to stand in the puddles of despair this time."
For the first time in what feels like weeks, I actually feel… happy. Normal. Relaxed. Just a guy about to play a video game with a cool friend. No sisters, no rivals, no secret identities (as far as I know, though the Izumi/Ichigo name thing is still nagging at the back of my mind), no hidden agendas. Just pixels, monsters, and the glorious, uncomplicated promise of epic loot. This is exactly the escape I needed. Now, if only reality would agree to stay firmly on the other side of the screen…